


The Crimes of Sir Billiam III & His Loyal Apprentice

by idcallmyselfhuman



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Absolutely no shipping here - Freeform, Brotherhood, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Mentions of Blood, Phil and Tommy Are Only Mentioned, Ranboo is Ran, Sleepy Boys Inc + Ranboo, Tales of the Dream SMP - Freeform, Technoblade is Sir Billiam III, The Masquerade Stream, this is my sad attempt at trying to recreate the snobbish way they spoke in stream lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 10:41:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29330982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idcallmyselfhuman/pseuds/idcallmyselfhuman
Summary: Scenes that took place between Sir Billiam III and his apprentice before the events of The Masquerade.
Relationships: Ranboo & Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo & Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 303





	1. No Bowing to Brothers

“Sir, must I truly fit myself with such… _drab_ clothing this evening?” Ran raised the offending piece of cloth, waving it around to grab his Sir’s attention, a look of disdain weathering his normally… oddish demeanor. Billiam let out a snort, continuing to ignore his apprentice in favor of gathering his trinkets and fixing whatever furniture he deemed misplaced. The place hasn’t been occupied in a long while, and the cobwebs surrounding the room were certainly no contradiction. Perhaps he should have heeded the words of the tenant of the manor; the place is in need of retouching.

“Sir?” Billiam hummed in half-acknowledgment, gliding his hands through the books of the library that’d long been abandoned in favor of traveling the world in search of answers pertaining to their discovery. He began piling a few books on his desk, occasionally adding more if he saw one that interested him before taking a seat in his chair and cracking open a book. The sound of Ran’s complaints droned on and on until Billiam could all but sigh.

“Quiet down, Ran. I can recall countless times you’ve suffered from having blood spilled all over you. Surely your wear isn’t any more dehumanizing than that?”

“Anyone would complain if they were forced to wear _this_.”

“It is proper attire for any person who works, or in your case, is _pretending_ to work, in this Manor.”

“Whoever works here must feel as ashamed as I will then once I walk through the mansion wearing all but color.”

“Ran, my good sir, I hadn’t known you to be in possession of such low opinion of your servants.” The apprentice had the decency to blush before indignantly denying his claims, making the normally-stoic man chuckle in amusement. He knew the boy isn’t one to look down on anyone whose station is below him, but it certainly doesn’t stop him from joking about it every now and then.

When Billiam finally raised his head to see what the commotion was all about, he is met with the sight of the saddest, most _boring_ outfit he’d ever had the misfortune to see. The brown apron was matched with brown pants of the same shade, and the coat was a darker shade of that. The shoes were, predictably, brown, and every piece of the outfit was dilapidated, with white fading into various parts. The man was convinced it wasn’t even made in the same century as they were living- or rather, it was simply a sack made to carry potatoes in that Ran had accidentally picked up and had mistaken it for his own wardrobe.

“Perhaps we need to compromise our plans. Forget butler, an undercover rug’d fit you better, wouldn’t you think?” Billiam snorted, snickering at the image of a tall Ran lying on the floor being trampled by snobbish millionaires who wouldn’t give two glances at _who_ they could possibly be stepping on. The boy could only glare at his master who’d managed to find humor in his misery. The pink-haired man noticed this, and another laugh escaped him before he could stop himself.

“Oh, enough with your theatrics. Now that I’ve seen it, you don’t think I’d let you strut about my mansion wearing that now, do you? It’s a party, and you’d stick out like a sore thumb with those hideous garments.” Billiam scoffed.

He urged him to stay put as he walked out of the library, disregarding his partner’s questioning look. Not a moment passed before he came back with another fit, no doubt taken from his own closet upstairs.

“A tad dusty, but these’ll do.” The man set the clothes on the desk, padding it down in a low effort to be rid of the dust that’d settled on it from years of disuse. “These were the clothes I’d worn on formal functions from when I was your age. They’d most likely fit you, but I suggest leaving the coat off. You’re far too gangly for it.”

“Wait- you didn’t have to- I didn’t expect-”

“I won’t hear any of it. I’ve already gone upstairs and, god forbid, swam in a sea of dust to find something that’d fit you so you may as well accept it. Go change in the guest room, and I’ll tend to the rest of the tasks.”

Ran accepted the clothes and bowed, the faintest shade of pink coloring his features once more. He hadn’t realized how whiny he was being, and at best, he only expected sir Billiam to task him with finding another pair of slacks in an old chest owned by the previous butlers. Not get clothes from his own childhood closet just so a child would stop complaining. What a fantastic apprentice he is, demanding menial work from his own employer.

“Thank you, sir. I apologize for the trouble.”

“Now, now- I’ve known you too long for that,” Billiam rolled his eyes, taking his cane and hitting his back _lightly_ , a silent command to straighten himself. “Stand up straight, boy. The family practically sees you as one of theirs, and I won’t see a brother of mine bowing to me. Especially not for something so… little.”

Ran, still looking sheepish, could only nod his head, not quite sure how to respond to such an unexpected sentiment. Billiam huffed, ruffled the boy’s hair, and left the room.

The sound of heels rushing against wooden floorboards sounded through the empty corridor. He retched at the smell of blood seemingly radiating from where he was headed; the creature had been abandoned for too, too long- and his constant visits the past week have hardly put a dent to its seemingly endless hunger. Billiam paused in front of the painting hiding the monstrosity they’ve hidden below, scowling at the noise it made before heading inside, and not a single sound came following after.


	2. Shed Less Blood Once More Have Been Spilled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two share a conversation before the arrival of Sir Karl Jacobs.

“I assume you’re prepared for the night?” Billiam asked offhandedly, fixing his mask using the reflection the glass windows provided. Through it, he could see acres upon acres of trees surrounding the mansion, the darkness of the sky adding to its daunting appearance, looming over the entire forest despite it being the brightest thing you could see from miles away.

“I am. And you?” Ran replied, noting how tired the man already looked despite himself. “I notice you’ve been rather drained, is all.”

Billiam turned around to face him, a single eyebrow raised, the glint of red beneath his mask showing nothing but boredom, however, the slight, uncharacteristic slouch of his posture made him look all the more worn. He debated telling his apprentice the truth, but searching the younger’s eyes and seeing the complete sincerity of his concern had won him over. Such pure emotion would be the last thing you'd expect from a child with a kill count. He fit right in with the family.

“The Egg has been growing hungry, and we have a noticeable lack of bodies for it to feast on. You can come to your own conclusion, I’m sure.” The man drawled, attempting to paint it in a casual light, only to find that his half-assed plan would prove to be futile.

The apprentice’s skin prickled at the mention of that ghastly thing. “How long?”

“Ever since we’d stepped foot on this damned mansion. It killed the rest of the maids and butlers who’d gone to feed it, or so I heard. Greedy bastard.”

“Have you lost your head, sir?! Surely feeding it your blood is imprudent- not to mention unsafe?!” Billiam, surprised at his outburst, had shown no sign of outward response aside from a heavy gruff of a sigh. It reminded him all too well of two certain blondes who were always far too concerned for his own well-being than he himself.

“I am alive, Ran. You needn’t fret over such trivial matters. True enough, I want nothing more than to retire for longer than a few measly hours at a time due to this… predicament we find ourselves in, but I will recover, just as I always have.”

The boy, still wanting to argue with how _reckless_ this man was being towards himself, clenched his fists in restrained frustration, earning a curious look from the other.

“Sir, I am your apprentice. And as your apprentice, I only ask that you allow me to help in your time of need.” Ran looked at Billiam’s arms that were constantly wrapped in more and more layers of clothing these days. Now that he’d been told the reason why, his eyes lingered before traveling all the way to his own scarless arms, having been healed by no other than Sir Billiam and his family. He owed them all so, so much, so perhaps he could…

“You are not shedding any blood for my sake.” The finality in his voice made no room to argue, and all Ran could do was lower his head. The boy was an open book whether he knew it or not, and his need to prove himself useful will be the death of him. Knowing him, however, anything he’d say to the boy about his apparent willingness for self-sacrifice would go into his right ear and come out of the left. Really, Billiam wondered. How in the hell does Philip manage to find so many children all with the same lack of self-preservation?

He looked at the younger once more whose eyes still have yet to leave the ground, looking no more than a kicked puppy who’d been denied his greatest desire. Either Billiam had grown far too soft in the presence of such children, or the sigh he exhaled was simply proof that he was his father’s son, and he’d already developed the same exasperation Philip had always seemed to exude when it came to his unruly brats.

“I did not take you with me in my travels for you to act as my slave. I brought you to learn, and to show you the type of work we do if you wish to continue living the type of life we live.” Ran stayed quiet, contemplating his words before replying,

“Philip will be waiting for you at home.”

“And he will be waiting for _you_ all the same. I’ll return you to him in one shape if it was the last thing I did.” His words were sharper than he intended, but he meant it. Silence threatened to suffocate them, but before Ran could argue his case one more time, Billiam beat him to it.

“If it gives you any peace of mind since you’re so, _very_ stubborn in your pursuit to throw yourself at the mercy of our current ‘subject’,” By then, he was already walking away, checking the windows, a ghost of a smile playing at his features once he saw one of their guests pulling up at their grounds and walking up the steps towards them. “Then do your best to fulfill your tasks tonight. I’ll continue no longer once _its_ wants have been fulfilled.”

The acting butler gripped the hilt of the blade on his side, nodding his head in silent understanding. The two placed themselves in their positions, waiting in anticipation for their very first visitor.

And with that, a knock was heard on the door, and the night begins.

**Author's Note:**

> scuffed fanfic made by a tired author who wanted to get back into writing. Hope you found it as snobbish and decent as I had hoped to make it.


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